


Mark Is

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Cupboard Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is everywhere at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Is

Mark is... an enigma. Bryan knows that, can sense it every time the younger boy is near. A tangible sense of... something... that he can’t quite grasp. He’s a mystery, in and of itself, never to be trusted to be exactly the same the next time you see him. The innocence is always tainted by the immorality in the corner of his eyes. He’s so clean cut Bryan can never tell where exactly that raucous filth comes from. He’s sex. He’s love. He’s lies and truth. He’s the quiet one. The loud one. The one he can’t quite place. He seems so young, but the sneaking wisdom there makes him seem as if he’s from another time. A ghost. Something intangible that Bryan can’t quite get a grip on.

When Mark smiles, it feels like someone’s laughing from another room, but it isn’t Mark. Bryan’s never quite sure where to look when Mark looks at him, because there’s nowhere _to_ look. Mark is everywhere at once. Smoke. Liquid. A chuckle in the air, vibrating through his head. A kiss in a dream. It’s a haze in the back of his mind, blurring his vision and thoughts whenever Mark’s in the room. He doesn’t know what Mark is, except for a riddle.

That voice. Where does that come from? This low, dark drawl metamorphosing into a high-pitched wail. Melted chocolate and screeching tires and pitch and gravel and hot breath, all rolled into this absolutely perfect... thing. The kind of thing that makes Bryan wake up at two in the morning, his skin tingling with sweat and goosebumps, his cock painfully hard and dripping against the sheets, Mark crawling in his flesh. His ears ring, and his nerves scratch against each other, and he just. Doesn’t. Get it.

The edge of a shelf digging low in his back as he’s slammed against the wall in this perfectly gentle way, Mark’s eyes reflecting lust and mirth, although he’s not quite sure Mark’s feeling either of those things. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, except for drowned. Drowned in the blue of Mark’s eyes, which isn’t nearly as romantic as the paperback novels would make out. It’s different. A feeling of being caught, a fish on a line with only one way to go. He’d think of struggling but, unlike the fish, he knows there’s no point.

The eyes laugh. Chuckle. That deep throaty noise Mark makes. Bryan can hear it on the air, ringing in his brain as Mark’s tongue comes out, wisping over teeth, the sound of the closet door slamming making Bryan jump.

Mark doesn’t jump. Just keeps licking his lips like a predator, the eyes unwavering and hot, burning into Bryan’s face and peeling him bare. A smile. A quirk of the lips and Mark’s eyes narrow, creases forming in the edges and long dark lashes fluttering as he stares deep into Bryan’s eyes, groping expertly through his mind.

A long finger presses to Bryan’s lips as he goes to speak, and Mark’s head tips slightly to the side before lips replace the finger and Mark is kissing him. Hard and slow, soft and fast, all at the same time. Bryan can’t kiss back. It’s too much, consuming him. Drowning in Mark’s kisses, suffocating, not wanting the air he knows he needs as Mark’s tongue reaches expertly forward and just _brushes_ his, sending fireworks going in his brain. A razor sharp tooth dragging over his lips, and making him let out an extremely embarrassing whimper. A rabbit-caught-in-a-trap kind of noise.

Thick, silken lashes skate his cheeks, Mark’s long, long fingers cupping his chin and forcing him harder into the kiss. He’s not even about to question the fact that he’s in a storage closet with another man. Mark is beyond the boundaries of gender. And the fact that one of them is married? Mark is beyond that as well.

Mark is.

Moaning, Bryan reaches out to grip Mark’s shirt, yanking it up enough that he can slide his hands underneath. And that’s what Mark does. Slide. A snake, caught in his hands and writhing, twisting. Soft, hairy flesh that makes Bryan hiss because it’s the only thing he knows how to do any more. Burning, dangerous heat under his hands. Mark’s lips. Mark’s skin. Mark’s eyes, still open when Bryan dares to look. A frightening, searching, knowing blue, peering into his soul. And that makes Bryan harder than he was moments ago.

He mutters a plea when Mark pulls away, the smile never leaving that face as a hand slithers down Bryan’s body, slipping under his shirt and tugging at the hair on his stomach. Like a cord directly to his cock. Mark’s gentle touch, snaking into his trousers and closing around him. He has to moan. Wants to scream. Cool heat surrounding him and shuddering into his body. Writhing beneath his stomach, and Mark’s still smiling.

Teeth come out, digging into an inexplicably full lower lip that would look silly on anyone else. But it fits him perfectly, although Bryan can’t see where, just like everything else about Mark. The teeth dig, scraping, threatening him, and Bryan whimpers again, brain going into overdrive when Mark’s grip tightens at just the right time.

Fingers slide at his balls to the sound of his zip ripping open and Brian’s head _thunks_ at the wall behind him, neck bared just enough that Mark’s teeth can latch on. Biting down, mauling him. But there will be no mark later, not when Bryan finally steps out of here. Mark knows how to do it right. Mark knows everything.

Behind his balls, and Bryan has to bite into his lip to stop himself crying out as the bites hit his collarbone and start to work down. A finger, probing somewhere he’s never wanted anyone to go, and doesn’t in the future. But this is different, it’s Mark, and Bryan’s terror is consoled by that. No matter how much Mark, by just being there, scares him.

Finger, slithering at his arse, probing gently, with intent, and Bryan has to stop the soft scream that escapes when it slithers in. Pain, violation, unlike anything he’s ever felt before when Mark pulls away to let their eyes lock again, blue heat somehow negating the pain.

Nodding at the silent question he leans back, trusting himself completely to this spectre standing directly before him, looking into eyes that are wide and suffocating. The hand pumps, moving deftly, and Bryan realises with mild surprise that his hands are still clamped to Mark’s hips.

Tightening the grip, just as Mark does, Bryan groans, the finger inside him twisting like a maggot in his gut. He bucks, moves, writhes, can’t go anywhere, trapped by those eyes, questions reflected in them. Although Mark probably knows all the answers anyway.

And then he can’t think about it anymore, because Mark’s finger hits something, and he bites hard into his lip to stop the astonished scream, drawing blood in the process. But Mark just smiles, lapping away the blood with that pink tongue, flickering into the wound and sending his senses reeling. And then the tongue wraps around his cock.

He doesn’t know how Mark got down there that fast, didn’t even see him move, but when his fingers clench in short, dark hair, he can feel the laugh all the way up his cock and into his spine, the squirming finger pushing him further into that hot, tight, wet heat. The finger hitting something. Mark hitting something, slithering inside him and turning him inside out.

Gasping, crying out so softly that tears stream down his cheeks with the pressure, Bryan lets go. Or he doesn’t. Mark tears it out of him, the indecipherable smile around his cock making Bryan gasp and pant as he’s milked and taken, bright eyes staring up at him mirthfully. Sweat stark where it’s oozing down in front of Bryan’s ears, making him choke.

Standing, Mark’s cheeks are full, but as Bryan watches, he swallows hard, licking his lips lasciviously when his mouth is empty. Leaning forward, Bryan can taste it on his tongue, the hot stench of his own essence rolling down his throat and suffocating him. Drowning him in Mark, and in his own need.

He can’t even ask if he needs to return the favour. He doesn’t know if Mark’s hard. If Mark needs. But Mark grins, running his fingers through Bryan’s sweaty hair, the touch crawling against his scalp. Bryan stares back, questions burning at his lips.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Mark whispers. And then he’s vanished, leaving Bryan to lean back against the wall in the dark, hot and sticky, wondering if it was all a dream.


End file.
